


Unsteady

by TDKeh16



Series: "Mon Petit Chou" Series [8]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, One Shot, trying to deal with loss of purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7381135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDKeh16/pseuds/TDKeh16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack attempts to start his day in the aftermath of Kent Parson winning his first Stanley Cup, and reflects on where his own life is now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Kent wins the Stanley Cup during his rookie year and Jack backslides a little with his depression and anxiety. Based off of Ngozi's timeline from the tweets mentioned here:  
> http://tdkeh.tumblr.com/post/146854065529/tango-b-mine-i-cant-summarize-the-amount-of  
> I was also listening to the X Ambassadors song "Unsteady" while writing this, because it always makes me think of Jack and his parents post-draft/OD.

He hated himself. He hated the complete and utter failure he had become. 

He hated the way his mom looked at him when she thought he did not notice. He hated being "her poor son" that she felt she had to keep in near-constant contact with because she was so worried about him. He hated the way she looked at his dad when he caught snippets of their private conversations about how "I never should have let him play hockey" and "you have to be a little obsessed to make it to the NHL, I didn't realize he had a problem." He hated the look of disappointment that would flash across his dad's face whenever he saw him, before he was able to mask it with a forced smile.

He hated that seeing someone he cared about reach his lifelong dream filled him with total despair rather than even a shred of joy on his behalf. He hated that he only had himself to blame for the way things had turned.

Jack was awake, but he stayed in bed with his curtains drawn. It was not like he had a reason to actually get out of bed. For as long as he could remember, hockey had been that reason. He did not have hockey anymore.

When he was little, it had been the excitement and fun of the game that made him eager to hop out of bed and head to the rink. Other kids played video games or watched superhero movies, but Jack only knew one superhero -- his dad. Jack could still picture the proud grin on Bob's face, and the excited laugh he gave the first time Jack showed him he could skate backwards. He could still picture it... But barely. The memory only flickered for a moment before being replaced by more recent ones, like his dad crying in the hospital.

When did hockey stop being fun? Jack still loved it, of course, but as he lied in bed staring at the ceiling, he tried to remember when that anxiety and doubt had started creeping in. Was it the _first_ time someone pointed out that he had "big skates to fill" or the _twentieth_ time? Maybe the hundredth time? When did the gravity of his father's legacy start weighing him down? His dad was strong enough to bare the weight of his own fame, why couldn't Jack handle the residuals? He hated that he was not strong enough. 

Jack's phone buzzed and he rolled over to grab it from his nightstand. "Allô?"

"Jack, sweetheart, come down for breakfast," his mother's voice said softly on the other end of the line. 

He was not hungry, but he did not want to disappoint her yet again. "I'll be there in five minutes." Jack hung up his phone and returned to staring at his ceiling. When did it become so difficult to get out of bed? _You can do this. Just go downstairs and smile. Eat a couple pancakes. She will be so happy._  Jack gave himself his usual pep talk and managed to sit up in bed. 

He looked around at the bare walls of his bedroom. They were once covered in posters and team photos and other hockey memorabilia, but it hurt to look at those things now. They were only reminders of how far he had fallen. It was better to keep them in a box under his bed. _Take a deep breath. Go downstairs. Smile. Eat. You can do this._

It was closer to ten minutes by the time he made it downstairs to the kitchen, but Alicia pretended not to notice. "There you are!" She beamed cheerfully at her son. "Did you have a good sleep?"

 _No_. "Yes," Jack replied with a small smile. He sat down at the table with her and pulled two pancakes from the stack with his fork. "Where's papa?"

"He went for a run. He was going to wait for you, but..." Alicia's pale blue eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning and the summer sun was well on it's way to heating the day. Bob had waited until eight before leaving on his own with a sigh. "He should be home soon."

"I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize. It's great that you were able to good rest. Sleep is important too." 

"Yeah." Jack busied himself with eating his pancakes. It was probably for the best that he missed the morning run. His entire body felt heavy and his joints ached. Too much of his night had been spent tossing and turning on his twin bed, in his bedroom that no longer had a lock on the door. He was twenty years old and still living under his parents' roof because he could not be trusted on his own. He should have been in the NHL by now. That should have been him hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head in Las Vegas. _She's looking at you._ Jack smiled at his mother. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"I did. Thank you for asking," Alicia said with a smile as she stood with her empty plate. Jack wondered how long she had waited for him at the table after she had finished her breakfast. She set her plate down in the sink and walked over to him, placing a soft kiss against the side of his head. "I have such a beautiful, sweet son. I love you Jackie."

"I love you too." A lump rose in Jack's throat. She called him Jackie all the time when he was little, but she started doing it again since his overdose. It felt sometimes like his mom was trying to hit a restart button. 

Jack wanted to do the same thing sometimes. Restart using last known good configuration. Reboot in safe mode. Start windows normally. Every morning he picked the third option and forced his tired body out of bed. Jack still had trouble accepting that this was his normal now. 

Alicia sat back down and sipped her coffee. "Any big plans today?"

 _Breathe. Just make something up. Anything. Tell her you're going to see a movie with friends. She'll believe you because she wants to so badly._ "I might go see a movie with some friends tonight," Jack lied. He did not have any friends in Montréal. He was not sure he had any friends anywhere anymore. All he ever had was Kent, but he was pretty sure friends did not do the kind of things they did together. Were they still friends? Were they ever? Kent was living his dream in the NHL. It used to be Jack's dream too. _She's looking at you again._

"Jack?"

"Hm?"

"I asked when your next appointment was with Dr. Thibodeau. Is it tomorrow?"

"Monday."

"And have you been keeping that journal like he asked?"

"Yes."

"Is it helping?"

 _No_. "Yes, maman."

"That's good." Alicia smiled again, but it faded the longer she watched her son pick at the food on his plate, distracted again by his own thoughts. "Jackie. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Papa too. We love you _so_ much, sweetheart."

"I know..." The bite of pancakes stuck momentarily in his throat and he took a sip of water to force it down. Jack knew his parents loved him, that's what made it hurt even more. He had been given every opportunity in life and he had failed. Spectacularly so. Anyone else would have achieved at least moderate success in his position, but he was just that much of a failure that even with his advantages he had crashed and burned. He hated being such a disappointment. It would be so much easier if they just disowned him -- the disappointing failure son of superstars who had fallen so far from the family tree. An apple rotting on the ground, that was him.

The sound of the front door closing rocked Jack from his thoughts. He gripped his fork a little tighter. "Phew! It's hot out there today!" Bob's voice announced to the house.

"We're in the kitchen!" Alicia called out to her husband.

Bob had a bounce in his step as he arrived in the kitchen. 'We' meant that his son was out of bed. He ruffled Jack's hair as he passed by on his way to give Alicia a kiss on her cheek. "Isn't this a wonderful sight so early in the morning? Did you leave me any pancakes or did Jackie eat them all?" He teased.

"There's still lots." Jack mumbled with a nod towards the stack of six still on the table.

Alicia whispered to her husband, but Jack heard her anyway. "He only took two."

Bob's eyes focussed on the half-eaten food on Jack's plate. "Not hungry today, son?"

"No. Not really." Jack set down his fork, he hated it when his parents watched him like this. "Im going to work on my journal in my room for a bit."

"Did I do something wrong?" Bob asked as his son got up to leave. 

"Non, papa. I'm just tired." Jack went to his room and instinctively reached for the lock on his door. It was not there anymore. It had not been there for over a year. One more little reminder of his past mistakes. His parents loved him, but they did not trust him anymore. He grabbed the notebook he was using as his journal and sat down on his bed, flipping it the next clean page. Jack stared at the blank paper before closing the notebook with a sigh.

Everyone was worried he was going to try to kill himself, but that was not necessary. Jack did not want to die. He just did not feel like living either. Hockey had been his reason to live and that was gone. He had one shot and he blew it. What was the point? Jack curled up in bed and pulled his blanket up over his head. Maybe he could sleep for a while longer. Maybe things would change tomorrow. The longer he slept the sooner tomorrow would arrive, right?

He wanted to fix this somehow. He did not want to keep hurting them like this. He wanted to make his parents proud.

He was just so tired.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, not a very uplifting ending to this. It's meant as just a glimpse at a day in his life during one of his lowest points. A couple months later he starts coaching peewee for a second year and sets his plan in motion to enroll in Samwell. Things get so much better for Jack, you guys. He just hasn't learned proper coping techniques for his depression and anxiety yet.


End file.
